


The King is Dead

by Ivillpunchyouinthethroat



Series: Hellverse [1]
Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Wontaek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 09:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14829879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivillpunchyouinthethroat/pseuds/Ivillpunchyouinthethroat
Summary: “The King is dead,” Hakyeon said as soon as Wonsik walked into his room.





	The King is Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Some background story on our King of Hell.

“The King is dead,” Hakyeon said as soon as Wonsik walked into his room.

Wonsik paused, shut the heavy wood door behind him slowly, walked over and let himself fall into a chair next to the one Hakyeon was currently occupying.

“Huh,” he responded.

“Huh?” Hakyeon mimicked with an eyebrow arched.

“Any particular reason you felt then need to break into my room and tell me this?”

Hakyeon gave him a scathing look, crossing one leg over the other with finesse and a judgement only Hakyeon could achieve by moving a _leg_.

“I figured Wonsik,” he said, “that this news would be of particular interest to a demon in _your_ position.”

“My position?” Wonsik was quick to ask, tone mockingly serious.

Hakyeon gave an irritated sigh, “Are you really going to play this game with me?”

Wonsik only chuckled as he laid his head back to stare at the gold gilded mural that adorned his ceiling, the same one that he’d stared up at since childhood.

His room was definitely a prettier prison than a dungeon would be, but it was a prison nonetheless.

“And what game would that be, exactly?” he finally responded.

There was a rustle as Hakyeon rose from his chair, dusting off non-existent dust from his pristine uniform before he threw one last disappointed look in Wonsik’s direction.

“Clearly I made a mistake,” he spoke, tone cold and dry, “if you’ll excuse me.”

Wonsik kept his temper in check only until Hakyeon made it to the door and then he was jerking upright with enough force to send the chair he sat on toppling backwards.

“And what would you have me do, _general_?” Wonsik demanded, tone halfway to shouting and just as biting as Hakyeon’s had been only moments ago.

Hakyeon turned and arched another eyebrow at Wonsik’s display.

“What _exactly_ would you have me do?” Wonsik repeated, stalking forward as his tattoos started to glow and heat with the fire of his anger.

“Should I storm the throne room, where all the other highborn demon pigs of the empire are probably already massacring each other, tripping over their own brother’s dead bodies to lay claim to the throne? How would you even propose I even get there with the squadron of demons the former King has guarding my home, or should I say my prison?”

Hakyeon stayed silent, not so much as flinching as Wonsik stopped close enough for the flames that were already bursting from his tattoos and spreading across his skin to be reflected in the yellow bright of his eyes.

“I did not imagine your father would have raised such a son as to cower in his collar with his tail between his legs under the former _dead_ king’s orders.”

Wonsik’s flames burned impossibly brighter as he shot a hand out and grabbed at the lapels of Hakyeon’s uniform, shoving him against the door.

“Do not speak,” he said slowly, voice going ragged on his anger and grief, “of my _father.”_

“My father is _dead,_ my mother and sister are _dead_ , my soldiers are _dead_ , any demon my family so much as came in contact with is _dead_ and you want me to claim the dead king’s throne? With what, the power of my flames alone? Weren’t you my father’s brilliant strategist, _general,_ it doesn’t take a genius to realize _I’d_ be dead before I even set foot in the palace.”

Hakyeon’s expression went from cool mask it always was to livid with an anger of his own, yellow eyes flashing. He brought a hand up to the arm that Wonsik used to grip him.

“Are you quite finished?” he asked and at his touch the flames of Wonsik’s arms turned sickly black and petered away, spider webs  of the same black already starting to spread across Wonsik’s skin where Hakyeon touched him.

Wonsik wrenched his hand away when it was no longer strong enough to hold Hakyeon, his own flames spreading down its length again, burning away the residue of Hakyeon’s power.

The lapels of Hakyeon’s uniform were burnt; smoke wafting up from the cloth but Hakyeon’s skin was unmarred, smooth and unblemished.

“Why are you _here_ Hakyeon?” Wonsik finally asked, “I have _nothing._ ”

“And I would have not come here if I had _nothing_ to offer Wonsik,” Hakyeon responded tone as hard as his eyes, “I am a strategist, I deal in _strategy,_ not blind hope or faith.”

“And what do you have to offer then to a banished, shackled, lesser prince such as me?” Wonsik responded the light of his flames still bright.

“I have—” Hakyeon answered, tone once again composed as he smirked, a spark in his eye that Wonsik hadn’t seen in a long time, “—a Hellhound.”

“A Hellhound?” Wonsik repeated, surprise already dimming his flames.

“ _You_ have a Hellhound, one of the _king’s_ Hellhounds? How? Each Hellhound is bound to his King and their contract is only passed on to the next one.”

“This particular Hellhound was not the former king’s by choice; his contract was forced on him by one of the higher nobles. He was a ‘gift’ of goodwill from his family, done only to curry favor.”

There was distaste evident in the way Hakyeon said “gift”.

“Gift how?” Wonsik asked, but he already had a guess as to what Hakyeon would answer.

Hakyeon scowled, disgust heavy in his voice, “He was bloodbound.”

Wonsik’s own features morphed into revulsion, flames soaking back into his tattoos even as their lines still glowed, fire simmering just beneath the surface.

Bloodbinding was the worst type of slavery.

 “And why would this Hellhound help an outcast prince like me?”

“Simple,” Hakyeon replied as he crossed his arms, “I promised him his freedom, that as soon as you were crowned King you would dissolve his bloodbound contract. He was bloodbound to the former king, which means that until a new king is sworn in he owes his allegiance to no one. It’s not until a new king is sworn in that he will be bound to that new king regardless of his own wishes.”

It was Wonsik’s turn to arch a brow.

“Promises on my behalf already Hakyeon? How am I to trust my strategist if he’s already giving my word without my consent.”

Hakyeon’s answer was quick, unhesitating.

“You would never keep a demon bound by blood Wonsik, you have more honor than that.”

Wonsik barked out a laugh, “ _Honor?_ We are demons Hakyeon, we have no honor.”

“I would not have served your father—I would not be pledging my services to _you—_ if that were true Wonsik, and you very well know it.”

“Fair enough,” Wonsik said with a tone that sounded lighter to his own ears than it’d been in months, not since his family had been—

He banished those thoughts away, revenge would come soon enough—part of it had come already. He only wished he could have been the one to set fire to the former king and watch him burn alive.

“So I have a strategist and I have a Hellhound—”

Hakyeon smiled at Wonsik’s words, his agreement already implicit in them.

“And what would our Hellhound’s name be?” Wonsik continued as he gave a smirk of his own.

Hakyeon outright grinned.

“Taekwoon, his name is Taekwoon.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Up next, Wonsik finally meets his Hellhound.


End file.
